


Kindred Judgement

by Tyranidlord



Series: Sos do dov [16]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Forgotten Realms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Elder Scrolls Lore, Gen, Graphic Description, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22385866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranidlord/pseuds/Tyranidlord
Summary: “I’m going to destroy you and offer your soul to the Prince! You are nothing!”Without warning Kaius punched the ward, his fist smashing into it with a blow that would’ve cracked stone but did little more than bloody his already wounded knuckles. “Thousands, maybe millions of vampires have learned that blood is the key to power and you think you can threaten me with this?” His other fist hammered into the ward and somehow the blow was even stronger as the darkness in his eye appeared capable of consuming light. “Come on Harkon… you aren’t the only being in Nirn that understands the power of blood.”
Series: Sos do dov [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/932964
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	Kindred Judgement

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is... The fight we all have been waiting for...

The bells were tolling, ringing their fury into the sky and filling the cold stone halls with their voices. Every stone of the ancient fortress was vibrating in response, stones that were also feeling the heavy tread of armoured boots and listening to the shouted commands as the defenders moved into position. There were dozens of them, hastily pulling on armour, ripping weapons from their racks as their leaders pushed, shoved and coerced them into position.

It had not that been long since they fortress had been attacked and the defenders were prepared, moving and jostling themselves where they were needed, taking up positions at the various archer slits in the walls where their crossbow bolts and arrows could be loosed with deadly effect. Others moved into their positions along the walls with pikes and halberds, ready to fend off any foe foolish enough to attempt to scale them, but the primary assault was obvious. The gatehouse, with its huge metal portcullis and solid wooden doors was where the enemy was going to attack, and so a large number of the defenders were readying within.

There was no fear within the hearts of the defenders, no concern that they could not be victorious. The fortress had never fallen, even from the more recent attacks and they had been preparing for further attacks for months. It took three dozens of them to lift the massive portcullis, and several more were needed to shift the enormous doors and while the comrades launched bolt and stone from the gatehouse murderholes any attacker would be badly bloodied even before they reached them.

They crammed themselves in the gatehouse, shoulder to shoulder with the front ranks locking their shields together, and behind them were others wielding lead cored halberds ready to hack and crush anything foolish, or indeed lucky enough to break through the doors. There was nothing in existence that could break through such defences without a dedicated siege engine, and they were confident, prepared and waiting.

It didn’t stop the doors from exploding inwards with all the force of a volcanic eruption, sending chunks of stone and wood shrapnel hissing through the air. The portcullis and its enormous weight was ripped from its rails in its own explosion of stone, bent and mangled out of shape and being thrown inside like a toy.

For the dozens of packed defenders there was nowhere to go and no time to even react. Most died where they were standing, their bodies pulped and broken from the flying debris and others were crushed into paste from the collapsing roof or from the enormous weight of the portcullis crashing down. Their commanders, standing to the rear of the formation shared a similar fate, one being decapitated by a hunk of stone the left the air filled with misted brains and blood, and the other plucked was his feet and left squirming like an insect on the wall by two metres of shattered wood.

There had been no warning, no sign of siege engines or any explanation at how the gates had been obliterated from a force beyond comprehension. One moment they had been there; strong, resolute and indestructible, and the next they were the remains of a dolls house after a giant’s rampage. Those few survivors were left scrabbling to their feet or wallowing in the own blood and gore, trying desperately to scoop up their guts or stem the bleeding from their explosive injuries.

The attackers were relentless and yet only one shadowed figure appeared in the ruined gateway and the swirling clouds of dust. He was no giant or monstrosity summoned from the depths of oblivion, no outward signs of the power that he had unleashed upon the gatehouse beyond a pair of fangs sliding from between his lips and a face growing cold and ridged from vampirism.

Those still alive within the gatehouse could only watch as he stomped over the broken and fallen gatehouse doors, striding over the rubble even as they tried desperately to bring their weapons and shields up. He was alone but even the least magically inclined of them could feel the growing powers that the being was summoning in the seconds before the gatehouse was scoured by fire.

Flesh, wood, even metal was burned into dust and steam from the intensity of the blaze and the creature pinned to the wall screamed with a maw of fangs before it was reduced to nothing more than a shadow burned into the stonework. Nothing lived within the gatehouse where the fires subsided, leaving pools of molten metal cooling in streams of silver and shadows as the only traces of those who had sought to defend it.

More and more attackers appeared, rushing forward carrying shields to protect themselves from the hail of bolts, arrows and stones being hurled at them from the archer slits and murder holes but for every one of them that fell four reached the gatehouse interior and the fortress itself. They rushed forward in teams, some using their crossbows in their attempts to kill or disable the defending archers but they didn’t stop moving, rushing and swarming their way into the ruined gatehouse in the wake of the person who breached it.

Kaius was moving with purpose and even as the defenders reacted to the breach he attacked head on, followed closely by dozens of the Dawnguard. Over a hundred and fifty of the vampire hunters had come to the desolate wastes of northern Haafinger, travelling across to the ancient castle at low tide and assaulting it directly. They had prepared for months for this moment, training daily to take the fight directly to the vampires and it was now proving its worth.

As Kaius moved through with his companions following close behind, the Dawnguard truly proved their worth. Under Isran’s command they broke off into teams, splitting up and spreading through the corridors and passages worming their way through the castle and killing everything in their path. The vampires were relentless, overwhelmingly powerful and faster than any of the mortals dressed in their customised brigandine armour but they were soon discovering they were no match for the discipline and skill of the hunters.

With chained mastiffs leading the way, the hunters moved from room to room, crossbows tucked in close and tight to their shoulders. Some were armed with nothing more than short swords to compliment the shorter, lighter crossbows their comrades were wielding, as the tightness of the castle’s architecture made anything larger a hindrance that would get them killed. At every door they encountered, it would be kicked open by one of their number, a ball of magelight thrown inside that was quickly followed by a small clay pot filled with a volatile mixture of firesalts, saltpetre, charcoal and powdered silver. This deadly combination was proving especially effective against any of the castle’s defenders seeking to take their foes by surprise, as the magelight would rip any of the vampires from the shadows and the pots would fill the air with shrapnel and burning silver.

While small, the rooms contained the explosions and vampire and thrall alike would be left stunned and reeling, their ears ringing or bleeding even as the silver began eating into their flesh. There was little any of them could do as the hunters moved quickly to take advantage, clearing the rooms of their vampiric infestation with loosed crossbow bolts of blessed silver and quick stabs and cuts from silver etched blades.

In places where Sorine’s trinkets and designs proved ineffective due to the numbers of the damned or the simple size of the rooms such as the main hall, the hunters fell back on less subtle methods. The dining hall was already a vision from the depths of a nightmare with half alive and drained thralls served up on platters where the vampires had been feasting on flesh and blood lined the tables. Goblets filled with the half congealed fluid were leaking where they had been spilled at the first sound of the bells but for many of the undead revellers they had not strayed far. There had been dozens of the bloodsuckers waiting in the relatively open hall in preparation for the attackers, fangs dripping with saliva in anticipation for their latest feed but when the door was broken inwards their expressions turned from hunger to astonishment at what had come for them.

Somehow squeezing in through a doorway that appeared entirely too small to contain it, the shaggy, hulking brute towered over them all and it wasn’t alone. Even before the enormous troll launched itself into a killing frenzy against the packed vampires and their mortal minions more and more hunters were close on its heel. The considerable strength of the vampires paled in comparison to that of a troll weighing over two tonnes, and their weapons were entirely ineffective against a creature who regenerated from wounds before their very eyes, was immune to pain and was almost entirely covered in thick armour plates.

They were crushed underfoot, thrown about like toys and several were left broken and bleeding as the giant monstrosity picked up one of the six-metre-long oaken tables and flung it like it was made of paper. Others were hacked into chunks of muscle and meat by the blades affixed to the backs of its wrists and within seconds the dining hall was a true slaughter house filled with gore and ash as the vampiric remains combusting in death.

“Where to now?” Growled Isran as he stormed his way into the hall with all the force of a winter storm. His blessed hammer was coated in brains and clumps of hair from a handful of insane thralls, and his expression was one that revealed his desire to use it again, preferably on the being he was following.

“It feels like he’s deeper in the castle.”

“I doubt that he is hiding from us.” The glare alone was almost enough to kill, but those with Isran seemed to ignore him as they usually did. “He’s waiting.”

They may have been in agreement over several things in more recent history, but there were still many things that Isran and Kaius didn’t see eye to eye about. They both had agreed that the time had come to attack Castle Volkihar, that the Dawnguard was ready to take the fight to the vampires and that they could win, but yet again they had almost come to blows over their differences. Their arguments in the weeks leading to the attack had been considerable, even compared to their previous ones but in the end it had surprised many when Isran had relented on some points.

Moving down the ash and corpse strewn staircase into the hall, they flinched as Stendarr the troll managed to grasp one of the last remaining vampires and rip him in half without a moment’s hesitation. The two burning halves were thrown into the walls with enough force that the stonework was cratered, but the damage was barely noticeable in the wreckage strewn dining hall.

“Good boy Cuddles.” Sofia cooed in a sing-song voice and the giant troll snorted and shook its head, the triad of eyes blinking and looking between her and its true master. Unseen behind her, Gunmar was trying his very best not to scowl in Sofia's direction at her use of his pets nickname, a nickname that it infuriatingly responded to.

“Sofia, Lydia.” The two women looked at Kaius as he was looking between the handful of passages leading from the hall, an enormous curved sword gripped tightly in his hand with twinkling lights dancing in the metal. “Go with Isran and help clear the castle.”

Both were expecting the order, but it didn’t stop their dark expressions and attempts to argue it. Even Isran, who knew the overall plan and who had partially agreed with it didn’t look overly happy but remained silent.

“We’re not just going to let you go off on your own, my Thane.”

Kaius’ eyes met Lydia’s, and then Sofia’s in turn and he shook his head. “You can’t face Harkon.”

With her usual, unmistakable pout, Sofia flicked a chunk of ash from a shoulder and twisted her face with annoyance. “I still don’t see how you can.”

“Why do you think I have this?” The lengthy elven blade wriggled about as he shook it, the immaculate design of the _Light of Dawn_ impossible not to notice and Isran’s face darkened again. That particular argument had been a sore point for the whole journey and he still didn’t know how Kaius had managed to convince him to return the blade. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ll have Serana backing me up.”

Unlike the others, Serana’s expression had been cold and blank like a wax mask as soon as her ancestral home had become visible. Even as the Dawnguard slaughtered their way through its stone halls and passageways she had not as much twitched as muscle and there had been no hesitation as she too killed anything in her path.

“After all this,” Isran rasped, his voice low despite the growing sounds of battle echoing nearby. “we still have unfinished business to attend to.”

There appeared to be nothing capable of removing the infuriating grin on Kaius’ face, even with the hints of fangs jutting between his lips. “I’ll try to stay alive. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you after all this time. Come on Serana.”

Leaving the others behind he turned and didn’t even spare them a second glance as he moved towards the central passage with Serana moving closely in his footsteps. Isran’s gaze burned into his spine as they moved, but the veteran vampire hunter didn’t linger for long, ordering the others into action once more before looking for more fiends to slay.

After so many months it had eventuated into this. They had travelled into the depths of the world, walked across the blasted remains of another world, retrieved not one, but three Elder Scrolls and fought and bled and killed and starved in their quest. After all the travelling and all the journeying, there was nothing left but Harkon and the remaining Volkihar vampires.

It was almost poetic, and Serana and Kaius both felt nothing but cold within their souls as they moved deeper into the ancient fortress. The further they moved, the more they were striding through the bones of the Snow Elf castle that Serana’s ancestors had claimed when they sailed from Atmora but it was no less desecrated as a result. It was a nest, a lair, a den of evil and depravity and despite her own blood ties to such a place Serana couldn’t keep the disgust off her face. Skin was hanging from the walls in gruesome banners daubed with sigils of the Rape God, so much blood had been spilt that the mortar between the bricks was now permanently stained the colour of ancient rust and she was left trying to convince herself that the floor wasn’t tacky and it was just a figment of her imagination.

There was resistance though as they moved ever deeper. Her father’s inner circle was trying their best to either put themselves between the enemy and their sire, or to simply seek shelter with their Lord from the hunter’s inexorable purging of the upper layers. More than one of the panic-riddled creatures launched themselves at the two of them in some form of desperate attempt to save themselves, but ended up exploding into burning ash as Kaius cut them down without breaking stride. The lesser creatures that filled Harkon’s court tasted the enchanted edge of the Light of Dawn and with the sunburst of light that accompanied it absorbing their blood most were screaming or simply dying as burning corpses as it scoured them from existence.

For herself while unpleasant, she strode through the bursts of light the same as Kaius, feeling the waves of weakness from each dissipate as the shadows returned and watching as he strode on unfazed from such magicka. He was relentless, unstoppable and between the vampire slaying sword in his hand and the power of his _Thu’um_ there was nothing the half-breeds and lesser creatures could do to stop him. Even when a number of them attempted to block the last door between them and her father Kaius hadn’t even slowed down, simply gathering energies within himself before unleashing _Su grah Dun_ and _Wuld nah Kest_ in quick succession.

One moment he was standing alongside her, the next a mighty wind ripped through the passage and it was as though he had disappeared and reappeared thirty metres away without occupying the space in-between. The sheer speed that he had moved was impossible to track, even with her enhanced senses and reflexes and for those huddling in their shieldwall they had no hope. They simply died instantly, their bodies falling apart into chunks and bursting into fire that cleansed their vampiric taint from their bones.

There was no waiting, no questions asked whether they were ready for what was to come as they reached the final and last door. Kaius simply stood there and waited for Serana to catch up, giving one brief and final nod with the hints of a smile before pushing it open and stepping through.

Of all the places within Castle Volkihar, there was one where Serana would have never returned to if she truly could have helped it. The great open hall that had once been a Snow Elf temple was too raw with emotion, too engrained into her soul and it represented the very worst of her life. In many ways this room, with its tall arched ceiling, the long viewing balconies on the second and third levels and the cruelly carved gargoyles peering down in hatred was where she was born, where she had died and where she had been reborn. This was her father’s inner sanctum, with its walls weeping ichor and polluted blood, a floor made from ground up bones and a fountain of gore fashioned into the likeness of the daedra that had ‘blessed’ her family.

She had no good memories of this place, even before her father had changed it to suit the aristocracy of the night, profaning the temple into darkness suitable for worship of Molag Bal. It was where he, her mother and herself had been part of the ritual that changed them, corrupted them and where so much innocence had drowned in lakes of blood.

As such it was unsurprising that this would be the place the Harkon would be waiting for those seeking him out. This was the centre of his power, the throne of his petty kingdom of the night and he was there, watching and waiting patiently as the usurpers came for him.

If he was surprised to see them it didn’t show on his face, his eyes burning with the power of the damned in yellow coals of shrouded darkness. Beyond his eyes and the tightness of his face there was no real signs of the true daedra that infused his flesh, no signs of the vampire that he truly was.

“So…” His voice was a hiss of displeasure, of annoyance as though the fact that his castle wasn’t falling and the Volkihar vampires weren’t being exterminated one by one by the Dawnguard. “You’ve returned. Is your… _pet_ keeping you entertained?”

Despite the way that Kaius was moving ever closer, walking along the bone strewn floors without hesitation Harkon’s eyes were only for his daughter, eyes that were burning with a hatred and insanity that could not be measured.

“You know why we’re here.”

His laugh was bitter and short lived, more of a dry crackle than of true humour. “Of course I do. You disappoint me, Serana. You’ve taken everything I provided for you and thrown it all away for this… half breed _thing_.”

The cold rage that she had felt since the Chantry of Auri-El rose and so did the writhing of her flesh in anticipation of the change. “Provided for me? Are you insane? You destroyed our family! You’ve killed… _thousands,_ maybe more all over some prophecy that you barely understood. No more. I’m done with you. I’m done with our family and I’m done with… with _this_!”

While his eyes followed her gesture that encompassed the corrupted and despoiled temple, there was a measure of sadness; of disappointment that only a father could truly understand but it was short lived and died quickly to indignation. “So… I see this dragon has fangs. You voice drips with venom and I sense your mother’s influence. How alike you’ve become.”

“Ha! You should see her for yourself. It doesn’t matter though. You’re wrong anyway, because unlike her I’m not afraid of _you_. Not anymore.”

Rolling his burning eyes, Harkon’s interest in her faded and he turned his attentions away, moving and looking at Kaius with something akin to annoyance and building anger. “Then it appears I have you to thank for turning my daughter against me. I knew it was only a matter of time before she’d return with hatred in her heart. And what of you? A housebroken runt who hunts his own kind, a… _pet_ for vampire hunters? What happens if you were to slay me? Who is next? Serana?”

Despite everything, Kaius was smiling, his expression cheerful as though they were sitting down for a friendly chat in the comforts of a tavern or a garden instead of ankle deep in the bones of Harkon’s victims in a room soaked in blood. “You are a blight on this world, like so many of our kind. Serana isn’t. She isn’t like you.”

Narrowing, the burning glows grew brighter with disappointment and Harkon sighed loudly. “Then my Daughter is truly lost. She may not fully understand, but surely you do. Surely you have existed long enough in your meagre lifetime that the vampire is eternal. With immortality comes the revelation that these… bonds never endure. They are fleeting, momentary at best.”

“Enough of this, Harkon. We…”

“Yes, quite.” He snapped, interrupting Kaius in mid breath and snarling between a pair of six-centimetre-long fangs. There was power rippling through his body now, pulsating in time with his corrupted heart. “I’m growing weary of speaking to you and my traitorous daughter. I’ll give you a single chance to turn over Auriel’s bow to me. There will not be a second.”

The anger building within Harkon was not lessened by the way that Kaius openly laughed in his face. “The bow? You truly must be insane if you think that we would have brought it here. It is safe, and far from you.”

Serana could see it, so could Kaius as the flesh of her father’s face twisted and writhed as though his bones were twisted into serpents. The sheer force of his hatred was almost a physical entity of its own, and the willpower behind it all was as unbreakable as Dwemer metal.

“Very well. He growled, his words being drawn out into hisses from his barely supressed flesh change as he dragged his sword free. “I’m going to kill you, then the hunters, and no matter where you have hidden the bow I will find it and rule over an empire of eternal night. As for you, _my daughter…_ ”

She had been preparing for it, expecting this fight and to face her father ever since the Chantry but there was no way that Serana had prepared for the raw telekinetic power that erupted from Harkon as he threw her away with a gesture. One moment she had been standing next to Kaius, readying herself to fight him, and the next she was flying away like a ragdoll, the raw telekinetic power overwhelming her in an instant.

Her cursed family shared the same telekinetic gifts but her father instantly proved that no matter how strong she became she was nowhere near as powerful. Even something as simple as that flick of a wrist contained enough raw energy binding the enchantment that not only did it throw her into the wall and pin her there, but it was enough to crush her unnaturally enhanced bones. A mortal would have been little more than paste, but her dark gifts ensured that while she was injured she was not dead. Ribs, legs and an arm were crushed and bent and the agony was incredible but she was still alive.

Even through the agony of her broken legs and the way that the fragments of her ribs were piercing her lungs, Serana could still see the way that Kaius had thrown himself at Harkon in an instant. The Light of Dawn was peerless, incomprehensible in its power but Harkon was not an ordinary vampire and neither was his own blade. They threw themselves together with all the hatred that they were both capable of, fuelling their blows with incredible strength as she was forced to doing nothing more than watch.

Her vampirism was coming to her aid even as she watched her father and Kaius trade deafening blows with their swords, the sound alone being an assault on the senses as the two elven blades clashed. Already she could feel her body shifting, changing and flesh becoming leathery as it sought to heal the damage that her father had done but for the moment she could do nothing but attempt to overwhelm the spell.

Kaius was a swordsman without peer, a being who had spent the better part of two centuries training and perfecting his skill and the weapon he wielded was almost like an old friend to him. During their journey from Fort Dawnguard to Castle Volkihar he had opened up a little about the weapon’s history, how he had kept it with him during the Oblivion Crisis and some of the beings that had stained its length with their blood. He had used that blade for over a century before he had made the decision to hide it away in the fortress to remove the growing interest from the Vampyrum Order in Cyrodiil.

It cut through stone, metal and the decayed remains scattered across the floor as though they were mist as her father blocked the blows and counter attacked with ones of his own. There was nothing that seemed capable of stopping the Light of Dawn but somehow the curved blade that he was wielding, the ancient relic blade he had claimed when he was still alive was able to contend with the Ayleid weapon.

“I have been wanting a new Child of Dawn since the Great War.” Kaius taunted as they traded unceasing blows of naked savagery. “I would prefer Sunchild, but yours will do.”

Harkon’s reply was lost to the sudden flurry of attacks from his opponent but his sickening laughter was loud enough to be heard. So focussed on each other, neither of them had even glanced in Serana’s direction since they had begun as they couldn’t afford to in such a fight. Even a microsecond of distraction would have proven fatal as the two did everything in their power to kill each other, which gave Serana much needed time to begin unravelling the enchantment and to try to heal herself.

The enormous strength in the two vampires was incredible, knocking each other back with their boots skidding in the gore with many of the powerful impacts. They moved faster than the eye could see, twisting, weaving, slicing and parrying, until the profaned temple sounded like a hailstorm in an armoury but when the battle shifted, it shifted quickly.

“I _despise_ you.” Harkon snarled, their blades scaping tougher with a tingling surge of magical enchantments. Before either of them could truly react his hand had gripped one of Kaius’ wrists and the two of them were locked together, unable to shift their blades without cutting into their own arms.

Kaius had no words for the vampire lord, but his customary smirk had changed into a grimace of determination. He was straining against a being who matched him in strength but Harkon too was struggling, groaning with concentration as he tried to keep Kaius’ arms, and the gleaming Light of Dawn pinned.

Four thousand years of experience and fighting had bled itself into Harkon’s flesh, and the countless thousands that he had drunk from had infused him with a power that had enhanced the pure vampiric corruption he had received from Molag Bal. His skill with a weapon was just as perfect, having spent millennia training and practicing and even stealing the best swordsmen Tamriel had to offer and gifting them with the blood just so he could practice.

But thousands of years of duelling and practice was not an entirely equal match for a being who had spent two hundred years fighting for survival. With their blades locked together in a perfect duellist technique, Kaius had simply chosen to ignore it and Harkon’s nose was mashed flat from a savage head-butt. The two were master swordsmen but their weapons fell to the floor, the Light of Dawn sinking into the stone from its enchantments as Kaius followed up his head-butt with a series of brutally punishing blows to Harkon’s face and body.

Roaring with rage and indignation, blood streaming from his broken face Harkon immediately counterattacked, smashing Kaius across the room with a backhand. “First you die, then… I will make Serana _suffer_!”

Clothes shredded and armour buckled from the changes and Harkon transformed into the vampire, his limbs elongating and growing larger with unnatural power, wings erupting out of his back and the remains of his destroyed clothing. He grew larger, more powerful and spreading his leathery wings wide he growled so deeply that the floor vibrated and the pooling blood rippled.

Kaius was on his feet almost before he had finished falling, skidding across the floor and scratching massive channels through the floor as his fingers split open and elongated into talons of obsidian. Even after the times that Serana had witnessed it, there was something profoundly disturbing about the way Kaius transformed, even in comparison to her and her family’s. Their curse was born from Molag Bal directly; a daedric boon direct from the Prince of Rape and Desecration, and yet Kaius’ was brutal; speaking of destruction and fury that threatened to snuff out all life with its rage.

“ **You have to kill me first.** ”

Her bones were knitting slowly as her own flesh change assisted, as were her ribs but it didn’t stop Serana from wincing from the shuddering impact as her father and Kaius charged and tackled each other. Harkon was a lot faster and nimbler, capable of flying on his leathery wings but Kaius was all strength and durability. More and more of their vampires rose to the surface until there were two creatures locked in mortal combat with no trace of their former humanities.

If there were mortals, their blows would have bene strong enough to shatter the bones in their own bodies, let alone those of their opponents. Their claws would have shredded plate armour, and in Harkon’s case it did; ripping through Kaius’ breastplate and into the writhing flesh underneath. Their blood was being added to the noxious mix already congealing on the floor, syrupy and rich where it was Harkon’s, polluted and black with Kaius.

Again and again Kaius hammered his fists into Harkon’s body, grasping hold of an ankle as the vampire lord tried to fly out of reach and whipping him into the floor with a boom of flesh and stone. Harkon reacted just as quickly despite the stunning impact that had cracked the floor itself, kicking Kaius in the face and launching himself on the other vampire as a frenzied mass of talons and fangs.

There was no skill or technique to this fight. This was a brawl that if not for the supernatural aspect and their overwhelming might would have been more suited for a tavern filled with drunken orcs. They kicked, punched, clawed and bit, their fangs ripping through skin and flesh and mouths thirsting for the death of the other and not relenting for a heartbeat. Neither was holding back anything, calling upon their darker natures as their bodies transformed and burst like rotten fruit into swarms of bats that swirled into a dark cloud of corruption, dozens of furred bodies flopping onto the ground as the swarms savaged each other before they returned to their more humanoid forms. Kaius was proving resilient, shifting into mist and confounding Harkon’s attempts to pin or spear him with his taloned wings, and even calling upon his more traditional magicka to fend off the vampiric lord’s corrupting influence.

Punch after punch rained into chests and faces and for a moment they grappled on the floor, hands seeking throats and faces until Harkon gripped Kaius by the breastplate, hauling the other vampire up and swinging him around like a sack of flour. The splintering crack of stone and metal echoed through the room over Kaius’ breathless roar as the vampire lord smashed him back first through a column that exploded into powder and in a heartbeat Harkon was all over him.

Metal tore and ripped, blood fountaining from scores of gashes as Harkon’s talons ripped into Kaius’ flesh and yet the younger vampire fought on, punching into a leathery torso and gripping tight around a throat with a hand tipped in talons. All humanity from the both of them was truly gone now as Harkon’s salivating maw snapped and bit, chomping down like a bear trap in its attempts to gnaw on Kaius’ face. His claws were shredding metal and flesh alike, and the only thing saving Kaius was the unnatural way his body had shifted with his own vampirism, growing the strange scales and unnatural toughness that somehow mirrored the daedric and draconic blood flowing through his veins.

“You can’t stop the prophecy! I will rip you apart! I will rip the Dawnguard apart! You are nothing! Nothing but prey!”

Even though the blood and the way that his face had lengthened for his enormous, needle like teeth there could be no doubt that Kaius was smiling. His face was a mass of ridges and stubs of proto-horns, eyes even darker than the bottomless pits of oblivion and while he had been beaten bloody with his face smashed and teeth broken there was no mistaking his amusement.

As Harkon forced his wounded foe further down, slamming his shoulders and back into the ground with a bone-shuddering crunch, Kaius’ strength was fading and the gnashing jaws were growing closer and closer to his face and throat. There was still no change to the reptilian grin as Harkon forced himself even lower, digging his claws into Kaius’ shoulders and bearing down with his full weight until Kaius spoke a single, solitary word.

“ ** _Fus!_** ”

With only centimetres separating them, there was no way for Harkon to dodge the power of the point-blank _Thu’um_ and his head snapped backwards with a crunch of bone and gristle, spraying gore dozens of metres away and shattering every tooth in his skull. Against a mortal man, the sheer might of that lone syllable would have shattered his skull as effectively as a warhammer wielded by a Dwemer centurion and sprayed blood and brains throughout the sanctum, and while severely injured, Harkon was still not defeated.

“Impressive.” Thick strands of bloody drool were pouring from his mouth and his face was so severely mashed it looked as though he had been made of wax and placed too close to an open flame. So severe was his injures was even when he reverted back to human his entire face was swollen and bleeding, a mess of split flesh with hints of white bone underneath.

Kaius was no better as he staggered to his feet. Obsidian claws dug deep into the stonework as he hauled himself up, bleeding from a mass of gashes and claw marks that were almost deep enough to scour bone, even with his unique vampiric nature. Still struggling to break free of her father’s enchantment Serana could only gape in horror as Kaius stepped forward, stumbling onto his hands and knees and cradling his face.

“Your resistance is ultimately worthless.” Thick and guttural from the stream of blood that pulsated from his ruined mouth, Harkon spat wetly and failed to do anything more than cough gore down his already bloodstained chest. “You cannot win, half breed. You had your chance months ago to gain power when I offered you my blood, and yet you scorned it! Choosing to throw such a gift right back into my face!”

“Your blood is no gift.” Kaius too was spitting blood and fragments of teeth, and the damage he had sustained was also forcing him back into human form. “Besides, I already have too many voices in my head to have to deal with yours for the rest of my life.”

Kicking and scrabbling, Harkon was slowly crawling away from Kaius, dragging himself through the gore towards the twisted fountain-altar spewing blood. Every painful movement was laboured and difficult, especially from the fact that his left arm was visibly broken with bone jutting through the flesh but he didn’t slow or hesitate in reached for the fountain.

Serana couldn’t help but feel the horrendous energy within that tainted altar to the Rape Prince. It was vile, crawling over her flesh like maggots but the promise of the limitless potential within it was incredible. She doubted even Molag Bal himself truly knew how many people had been sacrificed by her father into that wellspring of hatred. Just how many had been bent over and had their throats opened up while being defiled in such a place over the centuries could never be counted or even guessed, but the magicka bound within it was there, just waiting to be tapped.

Even as she fought, screaming through a clenched throat to free herself from Harkon’s magicka she could feel his mind reaching out as much as his physical body was reaching for the wellspring of lifeforce. In his wounded desperation he was resorting to the one thing that would give him all the edge he needed over his enemy who was all too far away to stop him.

Clawed hand and tainted mind dipped into the bubbling gore within the hideous fountain and the pulse of energy was intoxicating as Harkon hauled himself up to it. Like writhing serpents, long tendrils of blood were whipping out of the fountain and digging into his flesh even as he dipped his head down and drank. Such overwhelming power was impossible for mortals to even comprehend and yet he decanted it like a fine wine even as he gorged himself on the liquid. Before Serana and Kaius’ eyes his wounds began healing, his arm straightening and snapping back together where the bones had been shattered and with every second he was growing stronger and healed once more.

There were others in the inner sanctum now, men and women, humans, elves, orcs and beastfolk watching the confrontation. The castle had fallen to the discipline and skill of the Dawnguard and now they were finding themselves spectators to something beyond their capabilities. Isran, Sofia, Lydia, Sorine Jurand, Gunmar and even the orange robed Florentius were there; watching in amazement and concern as a bubble of red-tinged energy erupted around the fountain and the vampire lord drinking from it.

“You never had a chance against me, half breed! I am the chosen of Molag Bal! I am…”

“Is this it?”

Harkon stopped in mid-sentence, standing confused and staring at the wounded, bleeding vampire on the other side of the blood-ward. There was no way to doubt how injured Kaius was, with his armour rent and hanging in tattered shreds, blood streaking his entire body and with a closed eye leaking thick gore and jelly. Several of his teeth were missing, bones were broken and despite it all he didn’t appear to be in a rush as blue lights sparkled from a hand as he sealed some of his more serious injuries.

The expression on his face was unmistakable however, and despite the way that only one of his eyes were left to stare Harkon down he appeared… _disappointed_.

From her position within the enchantment Serana could feel a cold chill crawling up her spine as she stared at the two men who were arguably the most important people in her life. Never before had she been able to see the two men in such proximity to be able to see the differences but she couldn’t understand how she hadn’t seen it before. They were both cut from entirely different moulds, born thousands of years apart and despite their vampirism there was little else similar between then.

Born in a time before holds and Jarls and into royalty, her father had been gifted everything he had ever desired. He had never wanted for anything and yet in his vanity and greed he had sought out even more power and even an escape from death. Kaius on the other hand had been born with nothing and had struggled through his entire life. From vampirism, through wars and countless battles he had never truly been in the position where anyone could claim he had an easy life. It had tempered him like steel, the darkness and deaths and loss forging him into something that simply refused to give up.

That was part of him, and something that he freely shared. In the depths of the Underdark where death and starvation were ever only hours or minutes away he had continued on, refusing to let anything stop them. Serana and the others had been told on several occasions that “ _Giving up is what kills people_ ” and at that moment he seemed to exemplify that sentiment.

Missing an eye, bleeding from scores of injuries and suffering a handful of broken bones most lesser beings, even vampires would have been struggling to stand but Kaius was simply staring at Harkon through the blood-ward. It wasn’t that he couldn’t feel pain or that the injuries weren’t debilitating, it was just Kaius and pain were more than just acquaintances and it was something he used to keep himself going.

Serana also knew all too well that Kaius and her were all too alike. She knew that in the darkest part of his mind that he sought an end to his existence and that there had been numerous times when he had thought of opening his wrists or simply letting an enemy kill him. He was too damn determined for that though. If he was to die then he wasn’t the type of person to simply slip into oblivion, he was going to go out fighting, kicking and punching the entire way and she honestly pitied any daedric realm that he found himself in.

“Well?” he growled, pressing a glowing hand into his side and grimacing as the brief burst of restoration magicka partially healed something within his torso. “Is this it? Is this the best you can do?”

If he wanted to anger Harkon, then his goal was certainly achieved and with the raw lifeforce flowing into his body, the vampire lord was a monument of corruption. “You, insignificant parasite… how _dare_ you! You have no comprehension of the power of blood, of the power of souls! You think that you and your polluted body can face the firstborn of Molag Bal?”

“Isn’t that what I have been doing all this time?” Kaius flicked his fingers against the shield of stolen life-force. “This is it, isn’t it? Your last ditch-fall-back? After what? Four? Five thousand years this is all you can come up with; using the blood and life of thralls and slaves because a stripling vampire like myself beat the shit out of you?”

“Shut up!”

Grinning through a mouth of broken teeth and drooling bloody saliva, Kaius stared at the vampire lord with his remaining eye as it burned with a soul-destroying blackness. “Are you so arrogant that you think you are the only one who knows about the power of blood? That you, and you alone are the only vampire who has discovered this _obvious_ secret?”

“I’m going to destroy you and offer your soul to the Prince! You are nothing!”

Without warning Kaius punched the ward, his fist smashing into it with a blow that would’ve cracked stone but did little more than bloody his already wounded knuckles. “Thousands, maybe millions of vampires have learned that blood is the key to power and you think you can threaten me with this?” His other fist hammered into the ward and somehow it was even stronger as the darkness in his eye began appearing as though it was consuming light. “Come on Harkon… you aren’t the only being in Nirn that understands the power of blood.”

Slowly, like the mechanical innards of a dwemer centurion, Kaius landed punch after punch into the ward, each growing stronger and more powerful. The impacts were bone jarring, rippling through the floor with the impacts and there didn’t appear to be doing any effect.

For those within the sanctum with gifts in magicka, they could feel the surging energies within Kaius as threw punch, after punch, after punch. There was no sign that he was slowing, no sign that he was weakening and with each blow the throb of magicka grew ever more pronounced. Harkon, protected within the blood-ward could only watch as Kaius drew even more power from his own supply of blood and souls.

Like a shadowed afterimage, Harkon, Serana, Sofia, Isran and the others who dabbled in magicka could see how Kaius’ form was becoming blurred, shifting between human and something that was not human. The figure growing out of his being was taller, more muscular and daedric in appearance even as it matched his movements as though Kaius was possessing the ghostly creature. Its teeth were as sharp as daggers, eyes as black as sin and flesh the colour of blood and charcoal but there was no mistaking the Dremora as its strength was added to Kaius’ own.

Other beings were visible; men and women and other races all being added to the kaleidoscope of souls and beings that Kaius had fed upon throughout his life. There were dozens… _hundreds_ even, and close to the sanctum’s entrance near Isran, Sofia was staring in horror as she remembered a similar sight many months before when she had witnessed Kaius slay the dragon Mirmulnir.

More and more of the blood and souls that Kaius had consumed added their strength to his blows until his punches were no longer merely physical impacts. Harkon could feel the shuddering might of the impacts against the shield and lent his own strength and that of the blood-fountain to securing it, watching as other beings appeared in Kaius’ aura like a corona.

Serpentine and scaled, a head the size of a battering ram lifted itself high and the width of the sanctum was filled with the outstretched wings of a dragon. For those without magicka, all they saw was Harkon’ expression turn into one of fear and not the sight of another pair of draconic heads rise up like Kaius had become the heart of a hydra. The blood-ward was shuddering now with the impacts, forcing Harkon to place more and more of his magicka and his willpower to keep it up but a shadow was growing now in the corona of souls.

Long and spindly, the great legs of an arachnid unfolded and a creature of pure darkness appeared from the depths of Kaius’ soul. Greater than even the largest of frostbite spiders, this soul-energy was unfathomable, indescribable and Harkon’s jaw fell open as a pair of golden eyes flensed his soul under their gaze. The body was enormous, furred and chitinous, but erupting from the thorax was a torso all too feminine that was both alluring and painfully beautiful. While incomplete there was no doubting the soul-strength of the this being and Harkon began screaming as the clawed hands swept down in support of Kaius’ clenched fists.

Like a plague-blister, the blood-ward exploded, the energies sustaining it cracking under the onslaught and whipping the air within the sanctum in a frenzy. Blood rippled and was sprayed throughout the room as every half-congealed puddle was blasted away and the floor itself scoured down to the stonework from the vortex that was born around the fountain.

The spectators were stunned, their bodies half drenched with thrown gore that simply added to the blood and vampire dust of their successful siege but while they were left shocked and dazed, Harkon suffered immensely more. With so much of his willpower and mental might thrown into keeping the ward up, the magical feedback was intense and overwhelming. His scream was cut off in mid breath, his body thrown like a ragdoll into the font that was left cracked and broken almost as much as his body was. Despite this he was still trying to rise, to draw upon the power that was laying tantalisingly out of reach even as Kaius stomped through the streams of blood spewing from the broken altar.

A sickening punch to the face snapped Harkon’s head back and the two vampires were grappling again, clawed hands grasping for purchase on each other’s bodies but this time Kaius had all the advantages. Stunned and dazed, Harkon was trying his best to pull the other vampire off him, even as he was dragged up onto his knees by the face.

“Give my regards to Molag Bal.” Kaius growled, his eyes changing back to brown as he gained purchase on Harkon’s head. The vampire lord was howling in outrage, his hands slapping ineffectively and trying to pry away Kaius’ grip but it soon turned into a panicked gurgling. There was no sign of emotion as Kaius began forcing his hands into Harkon’s mouth, digging the fingers of both hands into the roof of his mouth and bottom jaw at the same time.

Despite herself, Serana couldn’t bring herself to look away as Kaius gripped tighter, his arms bulging as he began to strain and Harkon’s gurgles turned pained and terrified. It was impossible not to watch as Kaius painfully pulled her father’s head back, straining with all of his might before ripping his head away from his bottom jaw.

Harkon’s corpse squelched into the gore at Kaius’ feet, the tongue lolling sickeningly in the shredded remains of the skull as he pushed it away with a boot. The remains were twitching like a crushed insect, the upper portions of the skull being dropped with a wet smack and horrifyingly there was still light in the eyes that quickly faded into nothing.

There wasn’t a man or woman in the room who were unfamiliar with a vampire’s death, especialy after the events of the morning but Harkon’s didn’t simply begin burning with a scouring flame. For the firstborn of Molag Bal there was no such destruction of the body, no fire that appeared from within and instead the flesh sloughed away as though it had been dipped in acid. Skin melted, muscles and tendons sagged and slithered off bones and the blood that had once been flowing through veins pooled into the floor even as it evaporated into nothingness. Within seconds there was nothing left of Harkon beyond a sad pile of bones that were beginning to crumble into dust.

The sanctum was stilled, silent and those who had witnessed that last minutes of the battle were standing like statues and not a single word was spoken. There was no celebration, no cries of triumph or victory, especially as Kaius managed to take two steps towards them and pitched forward onto his face.

Most of the Dawnguard were milling around, unsure of what they had just witnessed and feeling the post-battle adrenaline crawling through their bodies but at the sight of Kaius collapsing several moved forward without hesitation. Sofia and Lydia were the first to move, followed quickly by Serana as the enchantment holding her to the wall finally died with the last vestiges of her father disappearing from existence.

“Kaius! Oh fuck, Kaius!”

Sofia skidded onto her knees in the blasted ruins near the fountain that was quickly drying into flaking blood, her hands grasping Kaius’ wounded body and rolling him over onto his back. Even as she was joined by the the other two women they couldn’t ignore the extensive injuries that Kaius had suffered from Harkon, but they all felt relief at the fact that he was still breathing and mostly conscious.

“He’s still alive at least.” Trying her best not to look at the way how the bones of her father were crumbling into dust, Serana dropped to a knee next to Kaius and Sofia. “Kaius, can you hear me?”

“Yes... Can you please stop shouting?”

Their laughs were born of relief as his eye flickered open and Serana heard Sofia’s gasp at his facial injuries. There were no great scratches or gashes, but at some point during the fight a talon had punctured deep into Kaius’ left eye, crushing and gouging the organ from its socket. All that was left was a bloody hole and crushed jelly smeared into an already bloodsoaked face.

“Well, the good news is that I think you are going to look sexy with an eyepatch.”

Kaius’ glanced between the three women and there was a faint smile at Sofia’s words as he tried to lift himself into a sitting position. “If that’s the good news, I don’t want to know the bad news.”

Both Sofia and Serana were already doing what they could, trying their best to remember his teachings over the previous months as they channelled their magicka into their hands and into his injuries. Her own injuries for the moment were forgotten and Serana was trying her best to seal some of the deeper wounds with bursts of blue-tinged light but her concentration was broken by the scraping of metal on stone.

So focussed on their fallen comrade, none of them had noticed how many of the Dawnguard were moving into the sanctum, looking about its ruins from the intensity of the fight between Kaius and Harkon but there was one figure who only had eyes for them. Moving through the gore and broken stone without hesitation, Isran had dragged the gleaming Light of Dawn from where it had fallen and now the tip of the enchanted blade was hovering only a few metres away from their huddled group.

His eyes were focussed on them, burning with their own level of intensity at Kaius and the between his predatory look and the Light of Dawn there was no mistaking his sudden intentions or interest.

Lydia was the first to move, her axe appearing in her hand and shield returning to a forearm as she moved between the veteran hunter and Kaius. “No.”

Not even for a moment, or in response to the growled word from the housecarl did Isran’s gaze waver from Kaius and slowly he stepped closer, the Light of Dawn unsheathed in his hand.

“Lydia.” Croaked Kaius at her back. “Step back.”

“I will not.”

“Step. _Back._ ”

Her desire to protect him warred with her sense of duty and for several moments it appeared as though she was going to attack Isran nonetheless but she relented. Slowly moving away from the encroaching vampire hunter she stepped backwards until she was by Kaius’ side with their other two companions.

The other members of the Dawnguard were standing around confused, unsure whether to intervene or assist as Isran moved over to the group on his own, the legendary blade of Maegalla gripped in an unwavering grip until the point was hovering a short distance away from Kaius’ face.

“It’s over.” Isran growled, his tone utterly devoid of emotion. “He’s dead, and the prophecy dies with him.”

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Kaius was too wounded and exhausted from the battle to offer up any fight. With such a peerless weapon in his hand and the fact that Serana was wounded as well reduced the chances of his companions standing much of a chance against the Redguard and this wasn’t taking into account the hundred plus members of the Dawnguard throughout the sanctum.

“Only a couple of loose ends now.” Kaius replied simply, blood seeping from his ruined eye socket and wounded mouth.

Receiving nothing more than a simple nod from the leader of the Dawnguard, they watched as he stood as still as the carved stone gargoyles jutting from the arched ceiling. There was no sign of emotion, or trace of what thoughts were going through his head as he and Kaius stared each other down as though they were the only two beings in the entire castle.

With a practiced twirl, the Light of Dawn spun in his grasp and where the blade had been pointed at Kaius’ throat, the hilt was now facing him.

“This belongs to you I think.”

Kaius smile was one of blood and missing teeth, teeth that would slowly and painfully regrow over the coming weeks but his remaining eye met Isran’s as he shook his head. “No. That sword belongs to the Dawnguard. Besides, you will need it more I think.”

Receiving nothing more than a single grunt in return, Isran’s expression was still cold and disciplined for the merest of moments there was the hints of a smile threatening to break through under his wiry beard.

“I…” he stopped in mid-breath, pausing for a heartbeat before his eyes moved between Kaius and Serana. “The Dawnguard couldn’t have done this without you all. The vampires are destroyed, Auriel’s Bow is in safe hands and we have you all to thank for it. So… thank you.”

“You’re welcome Isran.”

Grunting again in response Isran reached forward, gripping Kaius’ hand in his own and helped the wounded vampire to his feet. All around them, the Dawnguard watched with interest, breaking out with roars of triumph that could be heard throughout Castle Volkihar as they celebrated their victory.

**Author's Note:**

> One more story to go until _Sos do Dov_ is complete. While this is a bit lengthy i couldn't make it a multi chapter like most of the other fics. However, the next in the series will be a couple of chapters to tie it all off.
> 
> While the next story will start getting posted sometime around Feb-Mar, I don't intend on posting, or working on the next series after _Sos do Dov_ until I complete _Champion_ (which I have already completed a chapter and bit of already...)
> 
> On a side note regarding this chapter, I decided to change Harkon's sword slightly from the Akaviri styled katana as it was in game into something a little more suitable for the patriarch of the Volkihar vampires. In _Knight_ there have been several references to the Children of the Dawn; a collection of swords forged by the Ayleids alongside the Light of Dawn. Kaius' lost sword Sunchild was one such blade, and so I made Harkon's one of the others. One day I'll write another _Treatise of Tamriel_ outlining their history and why the Ayleids went to great lengths to create such weapons.


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